I'm standing on a scale again
which I hate
same one foot square area as if you
were standing on top of a skyscraper
but the little numbers are more annoying than
the horrid thin people looking up
or numbers of ants
I've tried to coax them to be more flattering
bribe
beg
there's always a smirk behind someone's tongued mouth
Billy Collins holding a Tom Collins
his baby
telling everyone
how he's just 157 pounds, dripping wet
me at my more round 225
which my mother tells me is a fighter's weight
not wanting to fight I
fidget toward another piece of pie